Anniversaries
by maggiesbell
Summary: Maggie is acting strange and OA tries to figure out why.


"You're avoiding me."

"Don't flatter yourself," she replied, without looking up from her file, "I've been with you all day."

Not really; they might have spent the day in close proximity, but only because the job entailed that. His attempts at making conversation in the ride over to the suspect's sister had been met by silence. The subsequent stake-out was equally tense, so much so that he'd been grateful when the suspect finally showed up.

He pressed his lips together. "You know what I mean."

"I have no idea."

She lifted her eyes to meet his, crossing her arms as she did. She was testing him, seeing how far she could push her act before he got annoyed and dropped it. It wouldn't work, and he doubted that she didn't know that, but she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

"Come on, Mags," he said. "What's going on?"

"Nothing. I'm _fine_."

It wasn't like her to lie, but that wasn't the only thing that worried him.

When their suspect realized who they were, he'd made a run towards the roof of the apartment complex. A stupid decision that OA couldn't really fathom the logic behind, because he was cornered when they caught up with him. Refusing to give up, he bolted towards the edge, eyes set on a building a couple of feet too far away, with Maggie following closely behind. He took the leap without realizing his mistake, and OA grabbed his partner's arm before she could make the same one.

A loud crash echoed throughout the neighbourhood as they stumbled backwards. She'd let out a small breath as she realized what almost happened. He'd asked if she was okay, to which dismissively replied that she got caught up in the chase and that the distance seemed shorter than it was. Backup arrived then, cutting their conversation short. In all the chaos that followed, with the interrogation of the sister (and co-conspirator) and locating the last bomb, it wasn't easy to get a moment alone with her.

Until now; with everyone else at home or at Anderson's retirement party.

"You were reckless today," he said, not making an effort to hide the worry in his voice.

He was unsure if he'd made the right decision to keep it from Dana. However, he knew that she wouldn't open up if she felt he'd gone behind her back. Besides, they were spending the rest of the night filling out paperwork. They'd be in a limited amount of danger for the rest of the day.

"I know," her tone was softer now, regretful, "It won't happen again."

"Good." He'd rather not lose her. "So, are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

She scoffed. "Do I have a choice?"

"I'm not gonna force you to do anything," he said, "but remember how you told me that I was your partner, and that you needed me to be honest with you?" He paused. "I'd like you to be honest with me, too."

She uncrossed her arms, finally relenting. "It's my anniversary today," she said quietly.

"Anniversary?"

"The day Jason and I moved in together." She bowed her head. "I know it's just a date. I didn't think it would upset me this much." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

His expression softened."You're allowed to be sad, Maggie."

"I don't _want_ to be sad."

"I know," he said, "but you need to allow yourself to deal with your feelings; it's not healthy to avoid them." Today was proof of that.

"It's just...it's not fair," her voice quivered ever so slightly, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "He didn't deserve to die."

"He didn't," he agreed. Whilst he didn't know much about Jason, he knew he must've been a good person. She wouldn't have loved him if he wasn't. "And you didn't deserve to lose your husband."

For a moment he thought she was going to say something, but then her face crumbled. Despite closing her eyes in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, they streamed down her face. He resisted the urge to reach out to comfort her, aware that she preferred her space. Instead, he found her a box of tissues, to which she responded with a quiet _thanks._

She was the one to break the silence that followed a minute later, clearing her throat as she brushed away the remaining tears.

"When I wake up, I forget." She stroke her thumb across her ring finger, seeking comfort from a phantom ring. "Just for a few seconds." She sighed. "And then I remember."

Not for the first time, he wished he could push some magical button to make her pain go away. She didn't deserve this. But at least she wasn't pushing him away. Instead she trusted him enough to be vulnerable. That had to be a good sign.

"I know you're hurting," he said softly, "so it probably doesn't feel like it, but one day you'll wake up, and it won't hurt as much."

He realized she'd probably heard similar words before and that she might not believe it, but if it inspired even the slightest bit of hope for her, it was worth being cliché.

"I don't think I can do that without feeling like I'm betraying him," she admitted.

"He loved you, Maggie." She looked back up at him at the sound of her name. "He wouldn't want you to be miserable for the rest of your life."

"I know, but I can—" she hesitated, "it's just hard," she said instead.

It would worry him if it wasn't. Losing someone was never easy, and when it came to Maggie, he knew she cared deeply for the people in her lives. She couldn't just _let go._ The protectiveness she sometimes conveyed in the field, both for him and others, was evidence of that. He knew that to some extent, she blamed herself for not being able to prevent what happened to her husband; for not being able to protect him. Whether it was consciously or not, the thought undoubtedly tormented her.

Before he had the chance to say anything else, she cleared her throat and straightened up. "I'm hungry."

"Yeah, it's getting late," he said, deciding against pushing her any further. "Maybe we can order some Thai?" One of her favourites.

For the first time that day, she smiled. "I'd like that."


End file.
